Move Along
by pocoloca
Summary: For lack of a better title. I seem to resort to song names when I can't think of a title... weird. Anywhoo, ONESHOT. Semi-Reid-centric. Reid goes in to visit Molly Muller. But in helping her, he discovers a way to help himself. Extreme fluff. R


**Hey there, y'all! I'm taking a break from my other fic (Rossi PoV is freakin' _killing _meee) to write this one. No idea where it came from, just popped into my head fully formed. I see the plot bunnies and my muses are working together in my subconcious now. Great work, guys! Lol. Anywhoo, here it is! Lots and lots of marshmallow-esque fluffiness, you've been warned. Oh, and in case you're wondering who the heck Molly is, she was Joe Muller's wife from "Retaliation" who was kidnapped. Just FYI. Hope you likey!**

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She lay in her hospital bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering how much time had passed since she last looked at the clock. It seemed like ages. She checked. It had been two minutes.

He made his way down the hall quickly (he was getting pretty good with the cane, and the doctors said he was healing so well he wouldn't need it in a few weeks), mildly worried about what he would find when he got where he was going.

He reached the door of the hospital room and stopped for a second, gathering his thoughts. He'd been actively not thinking about this thing for two years. It had only surfaced in his memories again during the Adam Jackson case, and that had been painful enough. Did he really want to go over it again, this time with a complete stranger?

But he knew he couldn't let her go through it alone. He knew what that was like, too. It made the whole thing a million times harder. He couldn't let her do it by herself. So he took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

Inside the white room, Molly turned her head towards the sound. Damn it. They were back again to ask questions, to take blood samples, to poke, to prod, to prentend they knew anything of the hell she was going through. Or it was her family, which was even worse because her husband kept looking at her like she wasn't there anymore and her kids were loud and wouldn't leave her alone and she just wanted time to herself. So she tried to ignore it. But then whoever it was knocked again. With a deep sigh she said, none too politely, "Come in."

The door opened and a tall, skinny guy with a cane she'd seen only once before came in. She didn't remember his name, it was Dr. Something or Other, the Fed. He looked timid, as if he didn't want to be there. Well, good. She didn't really want him there either.

"Um... Hi, Mrs. Muller." he began. She cut him off.

"Molly."

"Molly." he repeated. "Um... are you feeling okay?"

She wished people would stop asking her that.

"I'm fine." She snapped. Then she noticed the guy sort of rolling his eyes. "What?"

He sighed patiently. "Molly, you're obviously not fine. You've been through.. massive physical and emotional trauma; you, your kids, and your husband were almost killed, and you sustained quite the beating. You're not fine."

Her eyes widened just a little. No one had been quite that blunt with her before now. "Who are you, anyways?"

The guy seemed almost surprised at his lack of manners. "I'm Spencer Reid." He said courteously.

"And I'm not in the mood for small talk." Molly said, rolling on her side so she was facing away from Dr. Reid.

"Molly." He said. "Come on. I just wanted to make sure you're alright."

"Why do you care?"

"Your husband asked if one of us could talk to you. He said you were a bit distant, a bit agressive. And since I have the most ex-"

"_What_?" Molly asked, turning to face him again. "My husband sent you? He can't come in here and tell me how he feels himself?"

"He said he did, but you-"

"I'm fine!'

"No, you're not." he repeated in that infuriatingly calm voice.

"Why do you keep saying that?" She shouted.

He paused for a while, and then spoke softly.

"What did they do to you?"

"W-What?" her voice faltered. She was nervous, guarded. He knew the behaviour well.

"In the house. What did they do?"

"They... they didn't... touch me, if that's what you're getting at. They didn't."

"I know. But what did they do?"

He looked at her arm, at the tiny holes in the crook of her arm that the damn hospital gown wouldn't cover no matter how hard she pulled at the sleeve. She said nothing.

"It's okay to talk about it, you know."

"Talk about what?" Her voice rose at the end, making her sound a lot more defensive than she wanted. She tried again. "Nothing happened. I was scared, but I got out. Joey saved me. That's all. Why can't you people just let me move on?"

"You can't move on. Not really. Not until you talk about what happened."

"NOTHING HAPPENED!"

"Yes, it did."

He was sounding a tad impatient now. Good, she thought. Let him get as pissed off as she was. He deserved it for coming in here and trying to make her think he understood, that he could possibly understand what she'd been through...

"No, it didn't!" She shouted again. She took a few deep breaths to collect herself, then continued in a shaky voice. "And even if it did; even if something did happen to me in that house, how could I possibly talk about it? Who could possibly understand something like that?"

He paused for a second, before saying quietly; "I could."

"You?" she laughed humorlessly, desperately. "Are you kidding? How the hell could you possibly understand something like-"

She stopped talking then, because he had rolled up his sleeve and turned his arm so she could see the numerous tiny pinpricks, the track marks on his pale arm identical to hers. The accusation died in her throat.

He didn't say anything for a few moments. He seemed to be collecting his thoughts, preparing himself. She sat there dumbstruck. The silence in the room was almost tangible.

Then he spoke.

"The first time...' he began, his voice shaking the tiniest bit. "You were terrified, because you didn't know what was in the syringe. You didnt know if they were going to kill you, or...or what. You struggled, you- you begged them not to, but... it was useless. It hurt more the first time, too. That's because you tensed up before they... But it only hurt for a few seconds because that was how long it took for it to start working, and then you didn't have to worry anymore. It let you... take yourself away from reality, and you needed that because anywhere else was so much better than what you were going through then."

She noticed he wasn't looking at her. He was looking at the wall opposite him, but he seemed to be staring into somewhere else, a terrible, long-ago nightmare that still haunted him. She shuddered, because the words he was saying... they were true, so true. All of them. But he wasn't finished yet.

'The next time they did it, you didn't try as hard. Because a part of you knew that you... needed it. You knew that it was the only way out, the only way... to forget what was happening. But another part of you knew that it was wrong. But then, it didn't matter because you weren't there anymore... After that, you didn't try at all because... well, what was the point? You liked it, you needed it, and you hated yourself for it but still... as much as you hated it and knew it was worng, it was the only way out. And now, here you are. It's all over. You tell yourself that you don't need it anymore, but you feel like you're still there. Every time you fall asleep, every time you close your eyes, you're back there. And you're still scared, and you're still looking for an escape, and you think... what could it hurt? Just one more time. Then you'll be done with it. But Molly, trust me, that one more time turns into another, then another, then another. And if you keep going like that, it'll get to the point where you can't go to work, or go to sleep or wake up in the morning, or look your family in the eyes without needing it."

Her eyes filled with tears, but he hardly seemed to notice. He was still in that other place.

"And your family... Oh, God. If you keep doing it, you'll lose them too. You'll try to hide it from them because you won't want them to think you're weak. But pushing them away doesn't work. You can think they don't know what's going on... but they do. And, you know what? You can be defensive, you can lash out, you can do all in your power to keep them away, but they will not let you go through it on your own. Even if it means stepping back and letting you sort things out in your own time, they'll still be with you every step of the way, because Molly, it's impossible to get through this alone. Trust me, I know."

Tears streamed silently down her face as she looked at him. He seemed to snap out of his reverie and went over to her and took her hand.

"Molly, you don't have to do it alone. There are groups you can go to, I know your husband will be supportive... and you have me."

She looked up at him through the tears, asking a silent question. He understood.

"It was Dilaudid."

"The- the doctors said it was h-heroin for me." She almost choked on the word. He knew that feeling, too. It took months of NA before he could name his poison without flinching. "How long...?"

"I'm two and a half years clean."

"And is it... is it hard?"

"It's the hardest thing you'll ever do. And it's still a struggle for me, even after all these years. It's something you'll always have to be careful of. But it does get easier with time, I can promise you that."

She nodded, her tears subsiding somewhat.

"And one more thing... There will be rough patches. There will be times when you want to just forget everything no matter what the consequences. It happens to everyone at one point. For me, it was about a year after. I saw a kid get shot right in front of me... And I would have fallen off the wagon if a man I respect hadn't done this for me..." he pulled a small medallion out of his pocket. 'This is the standard one year medallion most groups use. He gave me his, even though I was only ten months clean at the time, so..." He put it in her trembling hand, smiling. " Take it. It's a loner. Keep it until you have your own, then give it back to me. You'll be surprised at just how much it helps."

Molly whispered a shaky 'Thank you."

He stepped back a little. "Now... d'you want to talk to your husband?"

"What?"

"He's waiting in the cafeteria. He... he wanted to talk to you, but he didn't know if-"

She actually smiled a little through the tears. "Yeah. Yeah, you can send him up. I need to talk to him. "

Dr. Reid smiled back. "Good. Talking about it... that's the first step. You don't have to make my mistakes."

He pulled out his phone and told someone named Morgan in a quiet voice to send Joey up. Then he hung up, and turned back to her.

"He's on his way." With that, he turned and started for the door, then stopped. "Just one more thing before I go." He came back to the bed and gave her a small card. 'That's my cell number. Whenever you need anything, if you're feeling like giving up, or just need someone to talk to, just call. Any time, 24/7. Just don't try to do it alone."

She took the card, and as he turned away again, she said, in a voice full of tears "Dr. Reid?"

When he came back, she sat up and hugged him, and started crying all over again. He patted her back sort of awkwardly; she could tell he was a little uncomfortable, but she didn't really care. She was just so overwhelmed; so happy that there was some light in what just a few minutes ago had been unpenetrable darkness, but still scared for the long road she knew was ahead of her. And again, after a moment, her tears stopped. She let go of him and sat back, wiping her eyes. Joey would be here soon.

"Thank you." she said to Dr. Reid, feeling as if those words were insufficient to express her gratitude, but they were all she had.

"Any time.' he replied, then turned, walked across the room, and opened the door.

Just as he left, he was passed by Joe Muller, hurrying into his wife's room. Reid watched through the closing door as the couple embraced, and then it closed completely. He felt his eyes getting a bit watery, and tried to blink the half-formed tears away.

He met up with Morgan and Prentiss in the cafeteria, where they had been waiting with Joe. They smiled at him strangely, as if they were unsure of how the discussion had affected him. He smiled back, suddenly feeling as though a weight had been lifted from him. He remembered his words to Molly, how talking was the first step, and realized that he should take his own advice.

It had been three years since they'd found him in that cold, desolate Georgia cemetary, kneeling beside the body of his captor and friend. It had been three years and yet he'd never come clean to any of them about it. They'd had their suspicions at first, and later they'd known for sure, but it had always gone as an unspoken fact between them. Reid had always appreciated them not bringing it up; even when they'd asked him to come and talk to Molly they'd carefully avoided mentioning the reason why he was the prime choice to comfort her. He'd never felt like it was a bad thing, the secrecy. But talking openly about his drug problem to Molly, who was next to a stranger, had lifted a bruden he didn't even know existed until it was gone. And if talking to a stranger could help him this much, then what could it hurt if he finally talked about it to his friends?

So on that day, three years after he'd taken the drugs off a dead man's body, he broke the silence. It was painful to reopen those old wounds, but Prentiss and Morgan were patient and sympathetic as he struggled through recalling the horror of what he went through. But at the end, he felt stronger for it. The secret that had hovered between them for so long was gone, and their bond was stronger than ever. And Reid wondered why he hadn't taken his own advice sooner.

He knew that the struggle was far from over, and he didn't know what would come, but of one thing he was sure. He wouldn't have to go through it alone, and neither would Molly. And that made all the difference in the world.

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**And there it is, a supremely fluffy ending. I honestly don't know where this story came from. Ahh well. Now it's back to work on the other one. Review!**


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